As I sat in the railway car on the way to the interpreters’ training camp, I was singing, “The way of the cross means sacrifice.” I sang that song all the way from Taipei as the train moved slowly south. Finally, as we were picking up new passengers on the platform, a train stopped from the other direction. As I was there with the Lord, I heard someone call my name. I looked out the window, and there was my company from the previous training, all discharged and in civilian clothes. They were waving at me and calling, “Hey Titus! Here you go again!” I told the Lord, “That’s it, Lord. You can hit me and beat me, but You don’t have to use sarcasm and make me a laughingstock.” I shut my Bible (I dared not tear it up) and my hymnal.
After I arrived at my new camp I stored them at the bottom of my footlocker. At every meal I was used to praying, but as I bowed my head for the first time at this place, I suddenly remembered what had happened. So I hardened myself and refused to pray. For about two weeks I did not pray or read the Bible. After such a period of time, however, I just couldn’t take it any longer. I missed the Lord too much. I realized that I had better find a place to repent, so I ran all the way to a field and knelt down for about an hour, praying and weeping. I told Him, “Lord, I lied. I told You that I loved You and that I would give my whole being to You. Look at how I gave You up after one little difficulty. Lord, forgive me.” I spent a long time confessing before the Lord. That was the first time I realized that every vow we make must be kept by the Lord Himself.
Adapted from Ruth: Growth Unto Maturity, pages 71-72.
Tomorrow: “An Experience (Continued)”